Sake
by Nike Athena
Summary: Sawada Iemitsu thought he was used to it.


**Sake**

**Author's Notes and Miscellany:** Sawada Iemitsu isn't as used to it as he thinks. Rated PG-13 for mature-ish content.

* * *

Sawada Iemitsu would like to say he was used to it. He was used to being in the mafia, dealing with their problems, used to cleaning up their messes and observing the magnitude of the messes. He was used to being in the mafia. But… he wasn't used to it for his son.

He thought he would be. He thought he would be able to look at his son's face and not regret getting the boy, his baby, his child, involved. He thought that the feeling of obligation would override the feeling of guilt that flooded him when he saw his son hurt. The guilt was a little easier now, if only because his son had a Family now, who would protect and love him.

It still didn't take away the hurt, he found, when he knew his son was in pain, like today. Today, just before dinner time, the door had opened, and instead of hearing Tsuna's normal "I'm home" there were two voices calling, waveringly, "Sorry to intrude."

Iemitsu had shifted slightly and looked out from the dining room, and had felt his heart drop a little. Yamamoto and Gokudera were standing on either side of Tsuna, one of their arms each holding up Tsuna by the waist, the other holding either of Tsuna's arms over their necks. Tsuna himself looked barely conscious, his head lolling back, clothes bloody and dirty, and his body so tattered and worn, it made him look as if he had been an innocent victim of gang violence. Which he probably had been.

So Iemitsu moved quickly. He rose from his spot on the floor and went into the hallway, speaking loudly so Nana would know he had it covered, and, thus, wouldn't come out of the kitchen. "He--y, boys. Look what the cat dragged in." He reached forward and gently captured his son's chin, carefully examining his son's face; it looked pretty bad. The swelling around the boy's left cheekbone was obviously from a break and not just a bruise, his chin was split open (but had been taped together with, absurdly enough, a Band-Aid), his skin was dotted with bruises and abrasions, and his breath was hot, quick, and shallow. It looked like similar damage all over Tsuna's body.

Iemitsu had looked up, still holding his son's face, at the other boys; they appeared to be in similar states as Tsuna. Yamamoto, who wasn't as badly bruised, had more cuts, and Gokudera was more cut, bruised, and burned. Both boys were favoring different parts of their bodies.

They had been in a big fight. Recently. Iemitsu was appalled he didn't know it had happened. But he stepped back and to the side, saying quietly, "Take him up to his room, alright?" And, raising his voice, addressed Nana in the kitchen. "Nana--! Tsuna's going up to bed early, 'kay--?"

Yamamoto had left shortly thereafter, but Gokudera hadn't. Covertly checking up on them after dinner, he found Gokudera washing Tsuna's face with a damp hand towel. Tsuna had reawakened, and was talking softly to Gokudera.

He found that it pulled, really tugged, on his heart to see his son, his only child, his baby, in shreds. But, he also found that he knew he couldn't intervene. Because, after all, he was the one who had set this boulder rolling, because he knew his son could control it's wild path. He had given a child of thirteen the future of potentially the world, potentially just the Vongola family.

Iemitsu lay still in bed that night, Nana having fallen asleep beside him moments before, and, blending into the sounds of night, were his son's cries.

Iemitsu lay still, gritting his teeth, and found that, even listening to his son's cries of pain, he could bear it. Because after every time his son cried out into the darkness, a voice, roughened by smoking though it was, soothed its master back. Because, after hearing that voice, Iemistu knew his son wasn't alone.

Iemitsu knew he could bear it. For the sake of the Vongola, he would have to.

He found, lying in bed with Nana that night, that, even listening to his child's cries of pain, and the comforting voice of his right hand man, he could bear it. For the sake of the Vongola, he would have to.


End file.
